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... at was the soft, pillowy potato as it melted in his mouth. He reached for his cup of milk, sipping it lightly, his eyes peeking to one side.

Little Jarot licked his lips, glancing up towards his greatfather, noticing he had moved on to his cup of milk, so the boy did the same. As the older Jarot poked his potato once more, little Jarot did the same, chewing the meat of the potato slowly, swallowing it quickly, in tiny amounts.

“Would you like some butter too, my boy?” the cripple ...

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